Dun Moch: Trials
by Kerensky's Hope
Summary: Dun Moch: Trials begins the story of Sith Marauder Drael-Ynn and his journey to discover what it means to be a Sith. Dun Moch is set in the alternate universe of the Star Wars Exodus roleplay community, and takes place around 17 ABY.
1. Chapter 1

Drael-Ynn breathed deep the night air, letting the cold fill his lungs. The chill served to calm him, to help him attune himself to his surroundings. He could feel the crisp metal of the staff, outstretched in his right hand. He could feel the clammy cold of the fog flowing around his body. But, most of all, he could feel the fear.

Fear.

That emotion permeated the air, thicker than the mists, and threatened to drown him. The salty-tang of horror came with the cold, and Drael-Ynn rang his tongue over his teeth. This emotion, he knew, was powerful and could cause a man to perform unfathomable deeds, turning him into an unbeatable being. It could also cause him to flee like a mouse evading the paws of a feline, turn a brave warrior into a craven rat. In his years of life, Drael-Ynn had known great terrors, and the horrors he now tasted were easily the type to cause a grown man to cower and weep.

Fortunately, the fear was not his.

His eyes closed, Drael-Ynn continued his chant, using his natural telepathic ability as a Draethos to send the unholy mantra into the weakening minds of his fellow Acolytes. They were hovering just outside of striking distance, the fear of him keeping them away, but the fear of running pushing them forward. Drael-Ynn's words, just whispers in their thoughts, burned at their self-confidences, causing them to doubt and dread the inevitable. And it fueled their growing terror.

To Drael-Ynn, there was more to fear than just the panic it caused. To him, it showed weakness. A panic-stricken person was a coward. A man fleeing from battle was a coward. A cowering foe, begging for mercy, for fear of death, was a coward. The warrior inside him felt nothing but contempt and anger for those who refused to laugh Death in the face. They were nothing but wasteful beings that did not deserve the resources needed to sustain them.

The fear he consumed quickly fueled a gathering fury. His fellow Acolytes were craven fools, unworthy of even setting foot on Nassus. The anger was his passion, and his passion was his link to the Force. Drael-Ynn reached out and felt the powers firmly in his mind's grasp. The time was right.

A scream of rage shattered the minds of the surrounding Acolytes, and was followed by a verbal roar. Drael-Ynn spun quickly, his staff lashing out at the nearest opponent, dropping the hapless Acolyte to the ground. The Draethos smiled to himself as the other trainees rallied. Their fear was still strong, but they had overcome some of their hesitation. That, in turn, fed his bloodlust, his passion for combat, and he felt his oneness with the Force grow stronger. He gave them a second more to regroup, and then he was amongst them.

The battle didn't last long; thirty seconds at most. Drael-Ynn relaxed into a defensive stance, and saw through the Force that the five Acolytes were all on the ground, nursing various bruises and broken bones. The fear, pain, and anger were as strong as before, but the Draethos felt something else: a void. He turned slowly, probing with the Force, trying to draw power from the emptiness, but found nothing.

His staff in a ready position to fend off any attack, Drael-Ynn opened his eyes, but he quickly bowed when he saw the figure standing before him. "Mistress Yvonne. My apologies for not sensing you earlier."

The Sith Marauder, her lithe figure clothed in the jet-black robes of her Order, smiled. "Of course you would not. Your reliance on the fear of others is a weakness, Drael-Ynn. How will you find passion when you face opponents who do not fear you? How will you fight?"

Slightly angered at the truth in her words, Drael-Ynn straightened up. "You are right, Mistress."

"Of course I am." Yvonne reached out with her hand and Force-pulled a fallen practice sword from one of the Acolytes. "Come, strike at me, and I will show you how to wield more than just your preys' fear." With a shriek that sent the remaining Acolytes scurrying away in terror, Yvonne launched forward, blade dancing in her hand.

The Draethos was caught off guard by the speed and ferocity of his mistress's attack. Her form, Djem So, was pitted against his still unfamiliar Form VII, and the Sith Marauder's expertise and experience quickly shown through. Though he managed to hold his ground for some minutes, Drael-Ynn found his inability to sap his opponent's strength and disrupt her flow to be critically damaging. A hard jab followed by a strong slash deflected his staff out of position, and he earned a solid crack against the side of the head. Yvonne's kicked insured his fall.

Drael-Ynn struggled to regain his footing, but Yvonne's booted foot pressed his head to the stone pavement. The Draethos gritted his teeth as his stars danced in his eyes. He tasted blood in his mouth, and just past the ringing in his ears, he heard Yvonne's mocking voice. "You see? Your strength is your greatest weakness. This you must correct." The pressure on his head diminished. "See me tomorrow, and we will begin remedying this problem."

"As you desire, Mistress," Drael-Ynn growled as his teacher turned her back to him and strode out of the training grounds.

-+-

"Your opponent fears you not." Mistress Yvonne's voice played loud and clear in Drael-Ynn's mind. "You cannot intimidate it, you cannot overwhelm it, you cannot instill fear in it. What will you do?"

The Draethos grunted as he landed a somersault. Drael brought his training staff into an overhand guard, just in time to block a downward slash. He followed through, attempting to bisect his opponent, but was quickly parried. Spinning, Drael turned away from the counterattack and dropped back into a ready position.

He was breathing hard, and his muscles ached from the hours-long sparring session. He could feel his connection with the Force, but it was nowhere near as strong as when he fought live foes. In those matches, he could always pull towards himself his opponents' fear and anger and doubt, and use that to focus his rage for battle and increase his passion through the Force. But, against a droid, a machine that had no emotions, Drael-Ynn found himself at a severe disadvantage.

"What will you do?"

Drael-Ynn gritted his teeth and launched a series of fast stabs and slashes, designed to overwhelm his foe. Even as he did so, he reached within himself and pulled at that itching sensation of defeat and shame, that anger at himself for not having defeated his opponent. It was an alternate way of drawing passion, Yvonne had shown him, one that didn't rely on the moods of others. This method drew upon his warrior code, his desire and morals to always be the best in any combat.

Drael prided himself in his martial ability, and this current match was taking far too much time. In a real combat situation, he knew, he would have been defeated or killed, and that result was unbearable. Fury for his failure grew, and feeding on that, he found focus and strength. That turned the shame and anger into a blazing fire, and Drael used it to renew his aching muscles. His movement and reaction speed increased tremendously, and the flurry of attacks forced his droid opponent backwards. With a quick parry, Drael found himself under the droid's guard, and he slammed his practice staff home. The droid, sensing that it had taken a mortal blow, fell backwards and deactivated.

The sound of feet on stone echoed in the sparring room, and Yvonne stepped forward. She wore her customary smile, and clapped her hands. "Much better, Drael-Ynn. You were significantly faster in finding your inner rage than you were a week ago. However, it still took you far too long. You will find that in real combat, you do not have the luxury of time. You must be able to draw your power immediately and leap into action."

Drael-Ynn bowed his head and let the sweat drip off his face. "I understand, Mistress. I am still breaking my habit of assaulting my opponent's mind. It is difficult, otherwise, to draw that connection with the Force."

The Marauder frowned and toed the prone training droid. "It can be difficult, but it is only a challenge for you to conquer. As a Marauder, you must be ready to do battle at any time, and so you must be able to find your passion at a moment's notice. Pick up on anything, your slightest desire or annoyance, and fan that flame into an inferno."

Yvonne looked up at Drael again and her smile returned. "But, you've been sparring and practicing for the greater part of the day. Go get some food, and relax for a few hours. Remember, there is more to passion than just anger and hate. There is also camaraderie, fellowship, and compassion. Explore those avenues, for they are also useful. Perhaps you will find another path to passion."

"Perhaps I will, Mistress." Drael-Ynn executed another bow and headed out of the sparring room.


	2. Chapter 2

_Vaapad is as aggressive and powerful as its namesake, but its power comes at great risk: immersion in Vaapad opens the gates that restrain one's inner darkness. To use Vaapad, a Jedi must allow himself to enjoy the fight; he must give himself over to the thrill of battle. The rush of winning. Vaapad is a path that leads through the penumbra of the dark side… This is Vaapad's ultimate test._

Drael-Ynn remembered reading those words somewhere, but as he set himself back into a ready position, he couldn't recall who had said them, not that he cared. The speaker must've been a fool, because the words were only accurate up to a point. _The Jedi were misguided_, the Sith mused. _They never were able to fully harness the power of the Force._

From what he had studied, and from his own experiences, Drael-Ynn had learned that the power to Form VII of lightsaber combat lay in the user's own passion and emotion, and willingness to embrace all that was combat. He user had to be one with the hunt, to take joy and desire in the killing and maiming of his opponents. And, of course, the Jedi worked to limit that possession.

As a Sith, and especially a Sith Marauder-in-training, Drael had no compunction against using his battle-lust because he didn't fear falling to the Dark Side. There really was no Dark Side, just another degree of Force mastery and power. These things, Drael knew and his teachers had taught him, were what the Jedi didn't understand, and the reason why the Jedi would always be weak and compromising.

Drael-Ynn twirled his staff, falling into one of the many Form VII kata. Practicing the kata for this form of lightsaber combat was difficult, he found, because solo practice really didn't generate the same amount of emotional charge, and without that charge, his form was weaker, slower, and less effective. That coupled with his relative unfamiliarity of the staff funneled his frustration, which in turn gave him one tiny bit of passion to focus and draw power form.

His eyes were closed, and he willed his muscles into the various motions of different offensive forms. He knew he was still a long way from mastering the saber-staff, let alone Form VII, but Drael-Ynn could already feel his muscles reacting purely from muscle memory and not his conscious thinking. The taste of familiarity was beginning to land on his tongue.

Without warning, a vaguely human shape intruded into the mental image of his surroundings. Drael-Ynn quickly reset himself into an en garde position and opened his eyes. Standing before him, in what he considered to be one of the more perplexing situations in his life, was a female figure wearing the expected dull robes of a Sith Acolyte. What set her apart from the rest were her colorful complexion and the decidedly odd head protrusions.

The female's robes were loose fitting, but Drael-Ynn guessed that she was thin, not nearly as built as he was. From her head grew three lekku, the distinctive head-tails of the Twi'lek people. However, unlike those of the Twi'lek, this female's lekku extended slightly upwards to form two horn-like structures. The horns and lekku were nearly white, but with dark blue stripes and highlights. Her skin was a shade of magenta, though white patches surrounded her blue eyes. An odd smile rounded out her features.

It took Drael a good forty seconds before he was able to recover his mental footing to realize that this wasn't an Adept who had lost a fight to a painter-droid, but rather a member of the Togruta race. Drael-Ynn relaxed his posture and gave her a nod. "Can I help you?" he asked.

"Can anyone really be helped?" the Togruta answered cryptically. She pointed upwards at Nassus' twilight sky. "I came from up there, in the stars. Do you know why? Because they said they could help me down here." She walked towards him and began to encircle him. "What about you? Are you here to get help?"

Drael-Ynn watched her wearily, not quite sure of what to make of her. "In a way, yes. I'm here to learn the ways of the Force, to grow in my combat abilities."

"So all you do is train? It seems like it." The Togruta pinched his bicep and yelped when Drael snatched her offending hand in an iron-grip. "Ouch! Let go!" She struggled but when the Draethos didn't respond, she bit deep into his hand.

Drael-Ynn snarled and ripped his hand from her mouth before aiming a swift kick at the Togruta's chest, but before the blow could land, she twisted away with unnatural grace. "Witch! I will gut you!" He brandished his staff and prepared to strike when she started to laugh uproariously.

"Oh, you're so cute when you're angry." She laughed again, her sharp teeth flashing under the moonlight, and her lekku swinging freely. "Don't be cross."

Unnerved, Drael-Ynn tried to force his irritation away. "Do you have a name perhaps?" he asked as he inspected the damage to his hand. "Or are you just some loon who's somehow residing among the Acolytes?"

"Jeska," she said with a smile and a bow. She stepped forward and offered her hand. "You are?" Drael-Ynn regarded her hand suspiciously. "Oh, I'm not going to bite!"

"As if," he muttered. Still wary, the Draethos shook her hand with his undamaged one. "I am Drael-Ynn."

"Excellent. Nice to meet you!" Jeska beamed. She took a step back and smoothed down her adept robes. "So, what are you doing exactly? I don't recognize your form."

Drael-Ynn twirled his staff absentmindedly as he explained the goals and forms of the Form VII style of combat. "I'm sure you've heard or studied some of the Forms for lightsaber combat. There's seven Forms, with the seventh being the most difficult. I've gotten pretty good at Form IV, but it really isn't what I desired or needed. So, I dug into the archives and found some teachings for Form VII." Drael-Ynn threw himself into one of the kata of Form VII, though it felt ungainly compared to Form IV.

"What's so good about Form VII?" Jeska ducked under one end of Drael's staff. "And why are you using a staff and not a normal lightsaber?"

The Draethos centered himself into a resting position before answering her question. "Form VII utilizes the passion, the emotion of the practitioner to strengthen his attacks. Form VII draws in the fears of his opponents to bring greater power. None of the other Forms do that." Drael-Ynn smiled, the moonlight glinting from his predatory teeth. "As for why a saber-staff? It's far more intimidating than a normal lightsaber, and when your foe is intimidated, he is defeated."

"That's all too philosophical for me." Jeska shook her head slowly, and Drael marveled at how her lekku swayed lazily. She gave him another one of her ponderous smiles.

"What about you?" Drael said, blinking to break the spell. "Why are you here? What are you studying to be?" He wasn't any expert on Togruta biology, but he guessed that she was several years younger than he was.

She shrugged in response and looked back up into the sky. "I never knew who my family was. I just remember living in some city, with nothing distinct around me. People were always saying that I was different, unique. And then one day, they came for me, took me from my home. And here I am."

Drael-Ynn followed her eyes and allowed himself to be momentarily captured by the myriad of stars floating behind the glare of Nassus' moon. Unlike Jeska, he remembered perfectly his family, or rather lack thereof. He was an orphan, raised in the metropolis of Ossus. Like Jeska, though, his foster family had known that he was different, and soon after his fifth year, he was taken into the Sith Order. Being a part of the Sith was pretty much all he had ever known.

"Oh, how the time has flown," Jeska randomly blurted, snapping Drael from his reverie. Without so much as a "good-bye", she disappeared in a swirl of dark robes, magenta, and lekku.

Drael-Ynn simply stared at the retreating Jeska, more than slightly confused. He had no idea what to make of this eccentric Togruta, and he couldn't understand how she even fit in the whole Sith Order. The Sith was this organization focused on serious study of the Force. Jeska really did not seem to belong, though he was sure there was a purpose to her being here. Then again, her odd character and colorful exterior certainly did bring welcome and new life to the Niflheim's rather dull aesthetics.

Sighing, Drael-Ynn shook the distraction of Jeska out of his mind and focused once again on Form VII's ready [i]kata[/i]. He didn't need someone like Jeska to disrupt his studies, especially now that he was so near graduation. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, calmed his body, reached for the Force, but before he could fully immerse himself, a voice called from the shadows.

"If only," the voice said. Drael-Ynn spun quickly, his saber-staff extended in a combat position. The speaker, dressed in black robes reminiscent of those worn by Jeska but with black leather chest armor, stepped into the light, his head cocked to one side. ""If only your skills with people matched your skills with the blade, you might have a career as a politician." He grinned. "But as it is, I suppose the profession of warrior will have to suffice. A shame that you'll be twisted and abused like a tool, instead of leading your own life in any way you please."

"Politics is the way of the weak. Politicians accomplish with words what real men accomplish with action." Drael-Ynn relaxed his pose slightly as he identified the speaker as an Assassin of the Sith, but he kept his guard up. He didn't think that his life was in danger, but he would not trust someone so easily. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

"My name is Hej Mallar. I am an Assassin, though you've no doubt already ascertained that. As for why I am here," Mallar's eyes glinted with mischief, "well, let us just say that I admire your skills. It must have taken considerable practice to be so adept at combat. Even I, a graduated Assassin, could not match you in a forward battle."

The Assassin began to walk around the Draethos, his smile not fading. "With skills like yours, you would be dangerous to anyone who chose to underestimate you. Or anyone who tried to abuse your power for their own gains. It would be a shame if a proud life like yours came to that, wouldn't it? If you fell from your power and freedom into the chains of servitude for some old master?"

"What are you trying to say?" Drael-Ynn continued to watch the Sith Assassin with his predatory eyes. As Mallar circled him, he couldn't help but wonder at the reason of his being here. Was this some sort of test of his loyalty? The Draethos couldn't think of why, for he had passed those tests long before, and had never done anything to cause doubt. Plus, what this person spoke was against the warrior honor he had known, and he couldn't figure out where the Assassin was going with this.

After a pause, he responded, "A warrior serves the will of his master. These chains you speak of aren't really there. It is an honor to serve the Empire. Everything I am has been given to me by the Sith, and it is my duty to repay in kind."

Mallar sneered now. "You don't really believe that," he said incredulously. "It is not the way of the Sith to submit yourself in this manner. Ambition is central, and advancement is crucial. Power is the antepenultimate, victory the penultimate, and freedom the ultimate. Having a master is useful so long as you are learning, but when you have surpassed his skill, it is necessary that he be removed to make way for your superiority."

He reached the entrance, back where he began his circling, and stopped. He shook his head at the Acolyte. "Perhaps I was wrong," he said, turning his back, "Perhaps you are not ready." The Assassin walked away, leaving the Draethos behind to question his place in the Sith hierarchy.


	3. Chapter 3

"Mistress Yvonne," Drael-Ynn said as he bowed towards his teacher. "I hope I am not intruding?"

The Sith Marauder, back towards her apprentice, said nothing and continued to stare out over what had once been living forest. Her black robes flowed in the strong wind, and her short-cut hair reflected the light of Nassus' rising sun. Her feet were set shoulder-width apart, giving her a stable stance, which was necessary considering the temple balcony overlooked a sheer drop of several hundred meters and had not been constructed with any sort of railing.

Finally, after several minutes of silence, Yvonne turned towards the Draethos, a slight smile on her face. "No, not at all, Drael-Ynn. I was simply relishing the calm of dawn. Beautiful, is it not?" She turned and swept her arm in a large arc to bring in the landscape. "Anyways, what's on your mind?"

Drael-Ynn stepped forward and had to admit that the view was spectacular. Miles of petrified forest stretched to the horizon, where a series of jagged mountain peaks split the cloudy sky. He knew that in other parts of the world, living forests would glow brilliantly during the night, a result of their unique bioluminescent properties. However, out here, the dried trees were dark and still, but their polished trunks reflected the rays of dawn.

"Some weeks ago," the Draethos said, "I met this Acolyte. She, well, I'm not sure what to make of her."

"Is that so?" Yvonne smirked. "You know, unlike the Jedi, we Sith do not frown upon relationships of love."

"What?" Drael snarled when he caught his Mistress's meaning. "No, this has nothing to do with romance or the like." He gave her a hard glare, which years ago would have earned him a punch to the face. But, now that he was nearing graduation, Mistress Yvonne had allowed him greater latitude. "I would like some information. Obviously, I do not have access to the histories of our Acolytes, so I am curious about her past and reason for being here."

"And why is that?" his teacher replied. She had by now stepped away from the edge of the balcony and was pacing herself through a series of stretches. "How is this Acolyte different from the hundreds you have met over the years?"

Drael-Ynn turned back to face the horizon. "She is, I believe, not mentally sound. Her way of speech and manner are very peculiar, as if her mind constantly wanders in every direction." He recalled the many other times he had encountered Jeska since first meeting her. In every single case, she was as enigmatic as ever. "We will be talking about one thing, and then she will suddenly change topics. And she acts as random as she thinks. She is eccentric, to say the least." After a pause, he added, "Plus, her coloring. That magenta is in stark contrast to everything else around here. It just doesn't feel like she belongs with the Sith."

"I see." Yvonne guided her apprentice away from the edge of the balcony and back inside the temple. "I'll look into it. What is her name?"

"Jeska," Drael-Ynn replied. "She is Togrutan."

"Excellent." The Draethos looked over and saw an odd expression in his Mistress's eyes. "I'll take care of it," Yvonne said.

-+-+-

The corridors in the Academy portion of the Niflheim were usually somber: quiet and dark. However, as Drael-Ynn stalked through the hallways, he noticed an unusually high amount of activity. Acolytes of all ages were dashing past; some were eagerly chattering to each other, while others were clearly distressed. Confused and curious, Drael followed a small group towards the disturbance. What greeted him shocked him to an open-jawed standstill.

The group of Acolytes had formed a semi-circle around a central figure. The Draethos easily recognized the white and magenta figure as that of Jeska. She was facing one of the Academy's many buttresses, and had a basket of fruit sitting at her feet. The buttress was splattered in the pulpy remains of several unfortunate fruit. Her robes were likewise speckled with chunks of rind, and in one hand she tossed some melon-looking thing. Her other hand clutched a small datapad, and to Drael-Ynn's horror, the Togruta hefted the melon in her right hand and hurled it at the wall.

Drael blinked in utter disbelief as Jeska giggled in glee and busily inputted something into her datapad. His mind raced riot as he tried to comprehend what was happening here. In all his years at the Niflheim, he had never seen anything that could compare to this. Even the brutality and intensity of his training could not even approach the chaotic sight before him.

And yet, Drael-Ynn wasn't sure what amazed him more: the fact that Jeska was hurling fruit at the wall, or how no Masters or Mistresses had shown up to discipline this bizarre individual and contain the situation. Despite all of these disturbances, one rational side of the Draetho's mind told him that if the higher-ups hadn't shown up already, they were bound to appear any second, and that meant Jeska's health was in danger.

Drael-Ynn burned his way through his shock using one of the many Sith concentration techniques, and reached out with the Force to grab an apple in mid-flight. Jeska eyed the floating apple in disbelief, frowned, and jotted something into her datapad. The Draethos tossed the offending fruit away and forced his way through the crowd of Acolytes. He reached the Togruta, grabbed her shoulder, and angrily spun her around. "Sith spit, woman! What the frell are you doing!"

Jeska finished typing in her message and looked up at him as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Oh, hello Drael-Ynn." She held out her datapad for him to examine. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm testing to see which fruit has the best splatter pattern. See?"

Snarling a curse, the Draethos batted her hand away, sending the electronic device exploding against the stone floor. Jeska immediately cried out in dismay, but Drael silenced her with a swift strike to the cheek, but instantly regretted having done so. There were tears in her eyes, and in a rare occurrence, Drael-Ynn felt his heart tighten in sorrow. However, he forced the emotion away and yanked the weeping Acolyte away from the commotion and through the halls of the Academy.

Soon, Drael-Ynn was standing on one of the other open-air balconies, and Jeska was curled at his feet, still in a state of distress. He sighed and knelt down beside her, gently forcing her to a sitting position. "Look," he said, "I'm sorry for yelling at you and dragging you away. I can't believe you would throw fruit at the wall, but you've got to understand that you can't just do things like that. It's too dangerous."

When she didn't answer, he sat next to her and tried to soothe her with a hug. He knew this was completely awkward. His entire existence was to train to be a killing machine, and Jeska's crying and emotional distress was a sign of weakness. And the sadness, the regret he felt. That was utterly alien. As a dispassionate siege engine of destruction, the emotions he was supposed to feel were anger and joy, joy at causing destruction which fueled his anger. And yet, here he was trying to comfort another Acolyte. It gradually dawned on him that over the course of weeks that he had known her, he had actually grown to like her rather odd manner. He had come to enjoy the meaningless random conversations he had shared with her, even if they were disruptive to his training regimen. He could actually consider her a _friend_.

Drael-Ynn smiled inwardly at the absurdity of it all. "Jeska, it's okay. I'll talk to your teachers to make sure they won't treat you too harshly." When she didn't answer, he continued. "Even though you made a horrid mess, I'm sure they can overlook that."

She suddenly jerked away from him. "It's not that," she said in a quiet voice that made Drael instantly regret having gotten up that morning. "The datapad, it was a gift from before I came here. It was my journal, where I stored all of my thoughts. Even if they're so disjointed."

Drael-Ynn didn't respond, and the two sat in silence, with the gusts of chilled mountain air swirling around them. The earlier stabs of anguish and remorse blossomed again, but this time the Draethos couldn't find a way to completely smother them. He had hurt her terribly. His concern for the well-being of someone else also unsettled him, and so Drael continued to stare across the landscape of dead forests.

Minutes passed, and Jeska spoke in a quiet voice. "I wish I could do what you do."

"What?" was all Drael could find in response.

"How you fight, your forms," she continued. "But, most of all, your control, how you're able to focus and always be in control of what you do, even if it's just talking to me. I wish I could do that."

Drael-Ynn climbed to his feet and leaned against the banister that was present on this particular balcony. The wind had grown slightly, and was beginning to chill him. He used the Force to shove his discomfort away, but he wasn't sure how Jeska was dealing with the cold. Drael turned and looked down at her. "I can teach you to have more control."

"Can you?" Jeska looked up at him. There were no longer tears in her eyes. "Would you?"

"Yes," Drael-Ynn said. He reached for her hand and helped her to her feet. "I will train you."


End file.
